


How to buy your dwarf's virginity in two steps by King Thranduil

by panhomarek



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Community: hobbit_kink, M/M, Please have mercy, omg i did this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panhomarek/pseuds/panhomarek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt : It's traditional for dwarves (especially ones of Royal descent) to auction off their virginity. It's not seen as anything dirty or scandalous (and the dwarf doesn't have to do so if they don't want to). It's just that virginity is highly valued and worthy of being paid for. After Erebor's reclaimed and rebuilt, Fili's and Kili's auction comes up at a time when Thranduil just happens to be visiting. He buys both brothers' virginities, beating out other bidders by naming some obscenely high price.<br/>He can take them at the same time or spend a night with each (up to filler).<br/>Bonus if Thranduil had bought Thorin's virginity before the Smaug incident. </p><p>http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24841589#t24841589 </p><p>I did what I could. Work in Progress. (and in need of beta)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stage one.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you'll all enjoy! You can find me on my tumblr - http://followthebifrost.tumblr.com

„I honestly doubt that this is a good idea, my dear friend,” Thranduil whispered, so only the King of Dale could hear him. They were both riding toward Erebor’s opened gates and even if Bard was calm and hopeful, Elven King couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of finally achieving peace between their races.

“Oh, come on!” Bard shook his head with amusement. “They invited us!”

“Only because you insisted,” Thranduil politely reminded.  Elven King, of course, knew why he was suddenly invited to Erebor. It was unexpected, when the dwarfish messenger appeared at Mikrwood borders and for a mere minutes, all the elves thought there was another war coming. But, as Thranduil grew to recognize, everything unexpected about Dale and Erebor always came from Bard. This time, specifically, from Bard getting Thorin, King under the Mountain, incredibly, ridiculously drunk.

“You two need to meet eventually,” Bard said and cheerfully patted Elf’s shoulder. Thranduil allowed all that gestures only because he grew very fond of his human friend. “I’m done with doing business for both of you! Dale might be an excellent trading point but you know, I can’t pick the sides.”

Thranduil only sighed, knowing all too well the truth Bard’s words held. Dale meditating between dwarves and elves was only a temporary solution – everyone knew it and yet, after nearly a year, no one wanted to change anything. Thranduil really would rather stay in  Mirkwood and kept status quo between his realm and Thorin’s.

“And look, Thranduil! There’s some sort of holiday happening! Look at all these dwarves!” Bard gestured to the entrance of Erebor and Thranduil indeed was aware of how many dwarves were there.  Most of them were decorating large columns and sculptures with flowers and minerals and paper decorations.

And then, there were also guards. To be precise, a squad of fully armed dwarves running toward them. Thranduil stopped his elk immediately and  looked at Bard with pure terror painted on his face.

“Please tell me you reminded Thorin about his invitation!” He said, trying hard not to sound as distressed as he was. Of course, ha took his own squad with him – ten perfectly trained elf just in case – but a small battle right in front of Erebor was a horrible idea. Not to say it could easily lead to another war.

“Well, if I did he would most likely take the invitation back,” Bard said with a sly smile. “That’s why I asked you to bring it along. The guards we can reason with, when they see their king’s signature they’ll surely let us in.”

Thranduil in that one moment felt like fainting. Dear Mother of Nature. What he has gotten himself into?

“Bard of Laketown, I swear to all that’s holy, if I don’t get out of this situation in one piece I’ll have my revenge,” Thranduil hissed, looking wary at the approaching dwarvish guards.

“King Bard of Dale,” one of the guards said and bowed in welcome, then looked at the elvish part of the company. “I see you brought guests with you. May I ask what Elfs of Mirkwood are doing here?”

Bard, being by now used to his new status and thanks to a certain elf knowing a few kingly tricks, smiled openly and welcomed the guards as well.

“My dear dwarvish friends. We came to you at your king’s, Thorin, invitation,” Bard took out of his coat a letter, addressed to Thranduil and by now slightly crumbed. He handed it to the nearest guard for examination.

All the guards seemed to reconsider their options and when the signature and invitation was deemed real, they insisted to escort their guest to the Erebor. All Thranduil wanted was to return to his homeland and never, never answer any invitations from dwarves ever again.

“It is an honor and pleasure to welcome the King of Mirkwood, noble Thranduil and the King Bard of Lakerown, the Dragon Slayer in our home,” one of the guards said and then took off his helmet. Thranduil recognized the dwarf as the one of the Company. “My name is Ori.”

“We’re honored to be here as well, Ori,” Bard said and let his horse to be led by dwarves. “Tell me, Mister Ori, what is the occasion? What are our neighbors celebrating?”

Ori smiled widely at Bard and without hesitation, began to answer.

“It’s been almost a year since the death of Smaug and the Durins day is coming. In fact it is next week! King under the Mountain wants to celebrate reclaiming his home and it is in our tradition to celebrate such great occasions for more than a few days. There’s a lot of parties planned in Erebor for the next week.”

Thranduil, if anyone bothered to look at him right now, was paler than usual and more distressed than his features showed.  Oh, he knew exactly about that dwarvish tradition – years ago he was invited by King Thror to celebrate and it did not end well for their realms.

“I must admit, no one expected our King to invite Mikrwood,” Ori said, this time choosing his words with more caution. “But nonetheless we’re happy that our races have a chance to unite!”

The rest of the guards with more or less enthusiasm nodded their heads and murmured approvals. The elves, now more cautious and alert than minutes ago only exchanged their glances. Their King seemed to be nervous and so they were ready for anything – especially a fight.

Somehow Thorin was warned about their arrival, because when they finally reached decorated gates of Erebor, the King under the Mountain in all his glory, was awaiting them. And no one missed his rather unhappy face when he crossed eyes with the Elven King.  Thranduil sighed inwardly once more and forced himself to at least try and be nice. Even if only for his own sake. It would be tragedy to be prisoned in Erebor and right now, chances for that were pretty high.

“Thorin, King under the Moutain!” Bard exclaimed happily and jumped off his horse. Thranduil slid from his elk with much more reserve and decided to keep his distance from  the dwarvish King.

“It is a pleasure to host you, King Bard of Dale,” Thorin welcomed kindly. “But I do not recall inviting your friend.”

At those words, both elven and dwarven guards tensed, weapons at hand, ready to strike at the slightest of gestures from their kings. Thranduil wanted to say something, to back off and head back to his kingdom with his pride only barely hurt. But Bard was already talking.

“But Thorin, my dearest friend, it was you who invited Mikrwood under your roof!” Bard handed Thorin the very same invitation he more or less remembered writing during one of the drunkest night in his life. When he saw the trap and the trick that was played on him, his face froze in anger.

Bard didn’t let that cold fury slip out of control and cause more damage than it was worth. Quickly he hugged the King under the Mountain and whispered to his ear.

“Thorin for the God sake you two must talk to each other. You have no idea how hard it was to make Thranduil come here.” Bard tightened his grip on Thorin’s shoulders and then looked the dwarf straight in the eyes. “Don’t be stubborn, Oakenshield. Your pride cost my people more than you can imagine. At least you can try to be civil.”

Thorin for a few long seconds didn’t react at all to those words and Bard was close to thinking that his marvelous plan failed and now he’ll have to deal with two very angry kings. But then Thorin took two steps back and spread his hands. With fire in his eyes, he looked straight at surprised and suspicious Thranduil, and exclaimed :

“Welcome Under the Mountain. Welcome in Erebor, King Thranduil of Mirkwood.”

*

Mostly thanks to Bard's encouragement and plotting – because if Thranduil and Thorin had something in common it was certainty that Human King was scheming to get them to cooperate – Elfs were invited to stay in Erebor for the whole of Durins Festival.

Thorin wasn’t happy and Thranduil with all his heart shared that emotion. He would give up even a large chunk of his pride and honor only for a chance to escape that underground trap. All the elves he brought with him felt the same – as if they were caged under the Moutain. It was not, by all means, a pleasant experience.

But Thranduil valued Bard’s friendship and in the name of it, he could bring himself to suffer little inconveniences.

The first two days Elven King spent  in company of men. His own guards were now guarded by the best warriors of Dale and Thranduil liked to look at his people enjoying simple conversations. It was so easy to grew fond of humans. They were so little, so young and yet had so many things to offer. Thranduil found himself really happy, walking with Bard through Erebor and admiring the sights.

Elven King relaxed after a day or two, and when King under the Mountain did nothing to disturb his peace of mind, everything went smoothly. Thorin didn’t bother them, excusing himself with his duties and festival’s errands to run. Thranduil was as much grateful for that as Bard wasn’t.

“I didn’t put so much effort in bringing you here only for the two of you never meeting,” Bard often said, but then Thranduil – experienced by centuries – brought different subject to his attention.

During the third day Bard's children arrived and Thranduil was more occupied with those sweethearts than for the past years with his kingdom. Since Legolas grew up, Elven King didn’t have a chance to pamper kids and take care of them. So he adopted Tilda and Sigrid for the whole day, leaving Bain with his guards – who swear to teach him how to properly use his new bow.

And if the dwarves of Erebor were honestly surprised to see two young girls ridding on the back of Evlen King’s elk they said nothing. No one dared to comment on Thranduil’s new hairdo, almost the same as the girls’. Only Bard laughed that evening, joking about how spoiled his kids will became.

Thranduil took his chance and put Tilda to sleep and when his usual mask broke at whispered “Good night Uncle Thrandy” he didn’t show anything when he left her chambers.

When all the kids under the Mountain were sleeping, the adults took their sweet time to enjoy good drinks and a moment of peace. Thranduil was sitting in his chambers – the only one fitting a King and at the same time, as close to the gates as possible – with Bard and they were both drinking ale. Bard was humming one of dwarvish song he picked up during the Festival and Thranduil had his eyes closed. It was indeed a good day, even he would admit. He still could feel the excitement of playing with children and even his longing for Legolas didn’t ruin his mood. His son was old enough to take care of himself, he must remember.

“Your Majesty,” young elf, Thranduil servant stepped into the room, large package in hands. “I have brought what you requested.”

At that Bard curiosity perked up but before he could ask, young elf put the large box on the table. It was covered with silver silk and Thranduil looked at it softly. Bard almost bit his tongue – the expression on Elven King’s face was so unique.

“Thank you, Endir, you might go,” Thranduil nodded at his servant and after a while, he was alone with Bard again.

“What’s inside?” Bard asked the second the doors closed behind Endir.

Thranduil’s lips spread with a smile, he looked at his friend and for a moment wondered if to tease him a little or not. Eventually, elf just took the silk away and gently knocked at the box. Soft, murmuring voices were heard from the inside, then scratching.

Now, Bard was more than intrigued.

“Do you know what will happen tomorrow?” Thranduil asked, shine in his eyes was more than concerning.

“The Fourth day of Durins Festival?” Bard asked back, not sure if it was the answer the elf expected.

“And what happens on the fourth day?” Thranduil kept drilling.

“I don’t know? More songs? More ale? More children running around and parents praying that no one will fall from the stairs?” Bard snorted. They had a long discussion about lack of handrails in Erebor.

Thranduil shook his head and with amused smile opened the box. Bard let out a breath at that peculiar sight. In his long life as a huntsman he did not heard of animals as beautiful as the two white birds inside. They were small, with silver claws and beaks, their eyes as blue as the sky and their feathers! Their white feathers looked almost like fur and Bard could easily believe they were just as fluffy.

“Those are Mirkwood Pigeons,” Thranduil said, his voice soft when he reached for one of the birds and petted it’s head. The pigeon warbled warmly and began to fawn into Thranduil’s fingers. “The most gentle, beautiful creatures of my realm. Very rare and delicate. We breed them in the palace and every elf of Mirkwood knows better than to harm them.”

Bard couldn’t take his eyes off the pigeons. He never saw them in the woods but maybe that was because the palace was their home. Thranduil gently took one of the birds out of the box and placed it on Bard’s arm. Pigeon – at first unsure – quickly started to pick at the bread crumbs left on Bard's coat and shirt.

“They are amazing,” Bard whispered, feeling that even raised voice would frighten the birds. Thranduil nodded, glad that his friend acknowledged Mirkwood Pigeons' beauty. “But why did you brought them here?”

“That, my friend, is why I asked you about tomorrow,” Thranduil began to explain while petting the other pigeon. “On the fourth day dwarves planned Virginity Auction.”

Bard’s blank expression said more than Thranduil wanted to know and in heat of the moment, he began to laugh silently. The birds, when they heard the sound, raised their little heads and began to warble joyfully. Tenderly, Thranduil kissed the one he was holding.

“Do I want to know what that auction is about?” Bard asked warily.

“It’s a dwarf’s tradition. Peculiar one, but I enjoyed it greatly in the past, when our races lived in peace.” Thranduil put the pigeon back in the box, then turned to face Bard. “Once a year the dwarfs of Erebor used to host a happening called by us Virginity Auction. And as the name suggest, they were selling their first time of sexual encounter. “

“That-that’s horrible!” Bard stopped himself form shouting only for the sake of the bird still eating crumbs out of his coat.

“Don’t get the wrong idea my friend. No one is forced to partake. The dwarfs value their virginity and in their customs, consent means everything. If you take someone against their will you’ll be considered a criminal without honor and probably will be banished from Erebor.” Thranduil took a sip of his ale, then continued. “When a young dwarf wants to have sex for the first time but he or she didn’t found his One yet, there’s no better option that to auction it off. You see, dwarves are great in business and the auction in fact doesn’t revolve around money. The dwarf comes to the stage with a number and then, everyone who wants to bed him, send gifts to the room with his number. Then, the dwarfs chooses one gift he likes the most and that’s it. That’s how you win someone’s first time.”

“What happen when the dwarfs decides that he doesn’t like the person who won his virginity?” Bards still seemed terrified by the whole idea. Thranduil shrugged his shoulders.

“Then the gift is returned and the dwarf can pick someone else. No hard feelings.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’ve already told you. I am old and there were times when our races were friends. I took a few dwarfs to my bed before.”

Now Bard, King of Dale was left wide eyed and mouth gaping. Of course, he knew that Thranduil, his immaculate creature from legends had to had sex in the past – he had a son after all, but he always thought about the elf’s wife and didn’t permitted any other solutions.

“Don’t do that face, Bard,” Thranduil waved a hand at his friend. “It’s not anything uncommon. Or perhaps it wasn’t.”

“Oh my god,” Bard whispered, then shook his head. “So… Those pigeons. You… You are going to buy someone's virginity?”

“Why not?” Thranduil smiled and for a moment Bard was stuck in his mind – Thanduil looked like the most cunning and devious elf he had ever seen. Like a creature that lived thought centuries and learnt how to get what he wants. He looked dangerous.

“But… What about Thorin? Wouldn’t he be pissed?” Bard asked, suddenly afraid that the fragile peace would be shaken.

“It’s not Thorin’s concern as to who will be picked up. The gifts have notes with names on them and it’s not like the dwarfs don’t know who I am. If they choose me, it will be their choice, not their king’s.” Thanduil picked up the remaining pigeon and put it to the box, then closed it and took to the shelf. While standing, he turned his head toward Bard. “I once brought Thorin’s virginity.”

Bard chocked on air.


	2. Stage two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All typos will be edited when spotted. I still need a beta. Also, thank you for all the kudos and hits! Please remember that motivation feeds on comments! :D

To Bard’s utter disappointment, Thranduil did not say anything more about Thorin’s virginity and how in earth he purchased it. Of course,  the Elven King would excuse his silence by hiding behind good manners, privacy and decency. Bard was sure that there was something more to it but at the time didn’t bother to ask any further.

The next day – the fourth day of Durins Festival – Bard was up earlier than he should, awoken by his children’s demands. And when he, the King of Dale, currently serving as a horse for his youngest daughter, looked at closed doors to the elf’s bedchamber, he could only wonder how this all would end.

The Auction was set to happen right after the dinner so Thranduil, having a lot time to kill, met Bard’s family before noon.

“Tilda, please, King Thranduil doesn’t have patience to bride your hair again,” Bard said, voice pleading, when he saw his youngest messing her hair again. Bain was sitting on the elk and trying to shoot from there – of course, he had a couple of elfs assisting him. Sigrid was occupied with lute as Thranduil showed her few tones and tried to teach her one of his people’s song.

Bard had to admit, Elven King’s humming was such a soft, warm sound, he had almost blushed when he lost himself in the song. (Oh, and how he hoped that Sigrid will learn to play it!) But for most of the time they spent together, Bard was mostly trying to keep his kids In check. It was horridly easy to lost a child in the dwarven  crowds.

“Oh, Mister Bowman,” Thranduil chuckled. “I have all time the world has to offer. Surely I can find a minute or two to take care of your daughter’s hair.”

Sigrid and Tilda both laughed, seeing their Da defeated once more by the Elf. Tilda was already calling him Uncle and since Thranduil didn’t protest, she was quite happy with a new family member. Sigrid wasn’t as trustful as her younger sister, but she did too grew attached to the Elven King. Bain on the other hand, liked his guards with mutuality. It was some time since his men were teaching Legolas how to use his weapons. 

“Fine,” Bard finally said and with resignation painted on his face, sat next to Thranduil, on one of stone branches of Erebor. They were on the large balcony, the only place secluded and on the open air in the whole Mountain. Thranduil was quite pleased when he discovered it, of course, with Bard’s children’s help. The kids seemed to know every corner and nook of Erebor and it was only after few short visits. (But that shouldn’t be surprising. Legolas had whole Mirkwood explored before he even learnt how to ride a horse.)

“Don’t be so jealous, my friend,” Thranduil joked lightly and smiled toward the man. “I’m not going to steal your daughters. No matter how wonderful they are.”

Two girls giggled again, then hugged each other. Thranduil reached for Tilda and sat her on his lap. Then, gently, began to braid her hair again. Sigrid was focused on her new lute and although the sounds she was making were far from heavenly, no one said anything. 

“I know,” Bard leaned to rest his back against stone column and then looked at the blue sky. It was still some time till the official dinner – the one held specially for the kings and royal family – but Bard could not stop to think about what was to happen after it. Funny, because his biggest problem should be Thranduil and Thorin interacting with each other.

“I just can’t stop thinking about today…” Bard finally admitted and Thranduil, being in such good mood around children, didn’t stop his light laughter. “It’s not funny! Have you even considered what could happen if someone accepts your offer?”

Sigrid perked up a bit but one look from Thranduil was enough to make her return to her lute. The Elf was nice to them and all Bard’s kids were fond of him, but they were also slightly frightened. Sigrid saw that man, who now was fumbling with her sister’s hair, killing orcs and trolls, giving orders and leading an army. And even if not from fear, she returned to her music out of pure respect she felt.

“Oh, I do know what will happen and I look forward to it,” Thranduil said, still amused. “And I must admit I might even be excited.”

Bard rolled his eyes.

“You’re missing the point!” He wanted to shout at the elf but in the last moment, managed to lower his voice. It would draw more attention to them and for now it was enough that they were two kings resting and talking on the balcony.

“Bard, dearest, you led me into thinking that you, secretly, want to take part in the auction yourself,” Thranduil said, finishing Tilda’s plait.

“No!” This time he shouted. “No, no, no. You are wrong Mister Elf.”

Thranduil only smirked, then thoughtfully looked at the sky.

“I think that a fine pony with your name on it will be enough to get you what you want.” 

“I hate you.” Bard hid his red face in his hand and began to shake slightly. How this even happened?

“I know, my friend, I know.”

*

Two hours later, they were all siting in the finest dining room in Erebor. The King under the Mountain, with his heirs, Kili and Fili, The Elven King with his servant standing behind his chair and The King of Dale, with his family. It was meant to be private and quiet affair. And at the request of Bard there were no guards nearby, just in case the two remaining kings decided to go lethal on each other.

Thorin, and everyone should give him that, welcomed Thranduil with the same hospitality he showed toward Bard and his family. And in return Thranduil complimented Erebor with polite honesty. Bard was proud of them and glad that no one died before the food was served.

“How are things in your woods, Elven King?” Thorin started, when after a few minutes he couldn’t handle any more of Bard’s rushing stares. His words sounded false and forced, but Thranduil nonetheless, smiled and bowed his head in good mannered gratitude.

“My realm is good and peaceful, the orcs aren’t a problem anymore. There’s only couple of spider’s nests left. And how is Erebor, King under the Mountain?”

“We’re prospering.” Thorin cut it short, still unhappy around the elf. It was enough that Bard tricked him into inviting Thranduil to Erebor.

The atmosphere was tense. Even Sigrid and Tilda were aware of it. Bain looked ready to duck under the table with his sisters and wait any storm out. Kili and Fili seemed to share that strategy plan. Although Thranduil was certain that if anything was to happen, two brothers would be first to aid their uncle. It was indeed delicate situation.

“Dale is good as well!” Bard said loudly and smiled widely. “Thank you for asking, my lords! And King Thorin your Mountain is astonishing. And I must say the dwarvish meat is delicious.”

Thranduil fell silent from that moment on. He let Thorin and Bard talk during almost all of the meal and answered shortly only directed questions. He wasn’t about to start a war accidentally and by all means, dwarfs were unpredictable. Who knew what could set Thorin off or provoke him.

After a while, Kili and FIli joined kings’ discussions as well, leaving the Elven King out of it. From his perspective, Thranduil noticed that with each glass of wine, Bard started to ask more private questions and his eyes were focused on Thorin mostly. Elf cursed his human friend in mind and silently prayed that the bowman wouldn’t mention Dwarven King’s sexual experiences. Especially since Thranduil never took Thorin – his gift wasn’t returned but he also wasn’t welcomed in Oakenshield’s chambers. At that time, Thranduil thought of it as very rude behavior but by now, it was in the past. Thorin probably found himself someone better suited and in his greed decided to keep Thranduil’s present.

“I heard about today’s auction, my lord Thorin,” Bard began, his voice to light from the wine. Thranduil’s eyes widened in shock and helplessness. He had no idea how to stop it, so out of desperation, he looked at Sigrid and Tilda. The older one seemed to notice his distress and quickly linked it to the grow men’s conversation.

“Yes, what about that?” Thorin was still amused, not suspecting anything. “It cannot be! Bard, do you want to try a new experience? My kin is very skilled in bed matters but  on the auction, we sell their first times. Your partners wouldn’t be much experienced!”

Kili and Fili bushed bright red but Thranduil didn’t pay any attention to them. Instead he silently, with just his eyes, begged Sigrid to do something, anything, just to make her father stop before it all goes too far.

“Uncle Thorin!” Sigrid finally called. When the eyes of everyone were at her, she continued. “Uncle Thranduil taught me how to play lute. Would you like to hear the elvish song I learnt?”

To say, that Thranduil was devastated under his cold, emotionless mask was not enough. For a moment he looked at Bard’s daughter and didn’t believe his own eyes and ears. But then Sigrid reached for her lute – a gift form elves indeed – and with childish excitement, began to play and sing.

She had a nice voice, really, for a human child, but the music was barely endurable. At least, for an elf. Thranduil did everything to not wince and all the time, he smiled at Sigrid in encouragement – let it never be said that he expect perfection from a kid and cuts it’s wings with harsh comments.  Bard, to everyone’s surprise, was truly amazed and happy for his daughter. Bain and Tilda seemed joyful as well. The only one with crooked smiles were dwarfs, but they too were polite about Sigrid’s song.

“Well, well, my dear!” Thorin said loudly when Sigrid finished. “If your uncle” – he looked at Thranduil with pure hate that he hid all dinner “has taught you his best skills then I must admit elvish music is very elaborate. King Thranduil indeed must be the best singer of Mikrwood.”

“Thank you, King under the Mountain, for your kind words,” Thranduil said more offended that Thorin brought their disagreements into matters concerning Sigrid, than from being insulted right in the face. And at the dining table!

“Since we all agree that the music was beautiful,” Bard saw his chance and took it. “Maybe more dwarfs would want to enjoy it? What do you say about it Thorin? I’m sure King Thranduil would sent his best musicians to Erebor for next year festival. Or maybe even new year celebration! They came to Dale few months ago and everyone was amazed by their talents.”

Thorin’s smile almost fell and crashed to the cold stone floor. This took an unexpected turn and somehow he had to get out of it with his honor intact. So, with pain in his heart, he said :

“It would be a pleasure to hear more elvish songs in the halls of Erebor.”

Bard counted it as a win. Thranduil and Thorin did not.

*

The rest of the dinner was more or less uneventful. Bard managed to force both kings into agreement that for the New Year Eave elven musicians will arrive to Erebor and will be hosted with all hospitality of dwarfs. King of Dale was in good spirit, hoping that everything will go smoothly and according to his plan, and then maybe by the end of the month Elfs and Dwarfs will be living in peace again.

“Are you excited?” Thorin seemed to be in better mood since they all left the dining room and forgot about inter-realms arrangements.  He still didn’t look at the Elven King but at least they weren’t throwing knifes at each other. “It will be the first auction since so long! As a King I am going to send some gifts myself. If you have any doubts feel free to ask for my advice.”

“O-of course,” Bard managed, blushing slightly. At this point he was already interested in buying someone’s virginity but not yet completely sure about it.

When they arrived to the main hall of Erebor, they took their seats. Thorin at his throne, placed higher than the stage, and Thanduil and Bard at his left side, on special, bigger chairs carved in stone. The Elven King looked at Bard with some reproach but soon his stare softened. How could he stay mad at the man who risked his own life during the Battle and who loved his children more than anything?

“So, tell me, Mister Bowman,” Thranduil began. “Are you happy now? You made me agree to send my musicians to Erebor in a few months.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Bard said with a small smile. “I’m not stupid. I know when Thorin insults you and I don’t have to stand and saliently allow it to happen. Next time he’ll think twice.”

“Or won’t think at all,” Elven King murmured under his nose. “Thank you for your intervention.”

“Anything for you,” Bard said with his usual half-smile and then winked. Thranduil stopped himself from rolling his eyes. It wouldn’t fit a king.

The Auction was opened by two groups of children, that played two different plays. First one was a story about Thorin Oakenshield and his Company and their journey to reclaim Erebor. Thranduil had to bit his tongue when he was featured as the bad one, the ruthless and cruel elf who stopped good dwarfs from their mission. The children playing the Company loudly shouted how they were starving in his dungeons and how mercilessly the guards were treating them. And as much as kids and younger dwarfs were enjoying the show as much the adults felt the tension in the hall. Clearly the play wasn’t supposed to be seen by Elven King. Thorin sat stiff on his throne, glancing warily at all the elfs. But no one said nothing. Thranduil, furious as he was, had too much diplomatic experience to ruin everything and lash out on the King under the Mountain.

The second play was better – at least if anyone would ask Thranduil and Bard. It was a story about growing up, learning new things, exploring and becoming an excellent warrior or shield maiden. Elven King could actually appreciate it and even slightly enjoy. It didn’t, of course, made the earlier insult less hurtful, but it was something at least.

After all children left the stage, Balin – this one Elven King recognized – took their place and began his speech. It didn’t’ last long for everyone were already impatient. Thranduil and Bard both clapped their hands when everyone else did and then, the real auction began.

Thranduil straightened himself and the look of boredom he presented for the better part of the happening, vanished, replaced by curiosity and a little bit of lust in the corner of his blue eyes.

The women were first. Thranduil watched the crowds cheering and loudly complementing each of the young ladies. And the King had to admit, dwarven women were unique. So different form the elfish girls, they looked strong and as if they were created for hard work and giving birth. All he could think was safety and stability and some part of Thranduil started to miss his wife.  She, by all means, wasn’t safe to be around – she was a warrior and he was the only one who could keep up with her energy and swiftness.

Thranduil shook his head and focused back on the stage and presented there dwarfs. When it was time for males, he almost laughed when he saw Ori, the guard. If anyone would be willing to play bets with him, he would put a lot of money on Bard’s pick. With the corner of his eyes, he looked at his friend – now flushed and excited, writing Ori’s number on his hand. Thranduil couldn’t help but chuckle quietly.

Almost by the end of the Auction, Evlen King considered a few choices. There was that one dwarven woman, with beautiful dark locks and breasts indeed worth of the King’s attention. She would be perfect wife one day, of that Thranduil was sure. Then, he had an eye on two other dwarves, they looked strong and brave enough to pick Elven King’s gifts.

“And the last two for tonight!” Balin said and then looked at his king with so much uncertainty that even Thranduil felt like something was about to happen. “Two brothers, Fili and Kili from the line of Durins!”

Elven King gasped, when both Thorin’s heirs walked up the stage, holding hands. For a moment, the crowd was silent, awaiting their king’s reaction. Bard in confusion, looked at Thranduil but the elf stopped him from asking anything.

“Their number is 38,” Balin announced, when it became clear that Thorin is in too much shock to react. The other dwarves began to cheer and soon everyone forgot of the previous, unexpected surprise.

 

*

Bard and Thranduil were back in Elven King’s chambers. Tilda was playing with her brother and Sigrid, under watchful eye, was playing lute. Thranduil already called for his servant and had two pigeons sent to the room of his choosing. And of course, he wouldn’t tell Bard who he picked up.

“I still don’t understand dwarves,” Bard admitted, then reached for another piece of meat. Theoretically, they were invited for supper by Thorin, but given his reaction on the Auction, Thranduil suggested to politely decline.

“And you won’t for a long, long time,” Elven King mused. “Although you have better chances than I.”

“Do you think Ori will accept my gift?” Bard finally asked the question that bothered him all day. “I mean… It’s a fine pony, but it’s just a pony. Nothing special.”

“There’s your name on it,” Thranduil reminded. “And it’s the gesture that counts. It doesn’t have to be special, it has to be given honestly and with good intentions. The Mirkwood Pigeons are a symbol of gentleness and care. That’s why I offered them.”

“So a pony is a symbol of what?” Bard made a funny face, trying to imagine what his present could mean for dwarfs. “Wait. Did I just send him something that would say “Let’s make love like horses?” Please tell me I didn’t do it.”

Thranduil snorted with laughter. Sometimes it was too easy to forget that Bard was only human. Only forty years old, so unexperienced and blind for so many things. But it was all the charm of men. Elven King patted Bard’s shoulder. They all were so quick to die, Thranduil wanted to enjoy Bard’s company when he still could.

“No. In fact, I don’t think most dwarfs would understand my metaphor.  Your pony was a great gift and I am sure Ori will at least consider your bid.”

Bard nodded and smiled gratefully at Thranduil. Nervousness was slowly leaving him and once more, King of Dale started to enjoy lazy evening with his family and friend. Those were rare moments and sometimes Bard couldn’t forgive himself when he was too busy or worried to fully appreciate them.

“What was that thing about young Durins?” Bard asked suddenly. “I wanted to ask you earlier.”

“Did you notice that they were the only one couple on the stage?” Thranduil asked back and let Bard have a moment to reflect on his point. “What they did was practically telling the whole Erebor that they were soulmates.”

“You want to say… Kili is Fili’s One and vice versa?” Bard said it with so much surprise in his voice it made Thranduil roll his eyes. “Aren’t they brothers?”

“Yes, they are.” Thranduil nodded patiently and then watched Bard’s mouth hanging open and his wide eyes.

“So that’s why Thorin was…” Bard murmured and then his expression changed from shocked disbelieve to true worry. “Is that sort of relationship allowed here? Are they safe? What would happen?”

“It’s not exactly common thing to happen,” Thranduil said, slowly choosing his words and actually thinking about the matter. “Long, long time ago, when siblings were each other’s Ones, it was more or less acceptable. There were some relationships like that in royal families. But it was long before Durin’s line. I don’t know what Thorin will do. I can imagine he expected his heir to mate with a woman and have children.”

Bard wanted to ask more questions, be assured that Fili and Kili wouldn’t be in trouble for what they did. Oh, he definitely worried too much. Thranduil cut off their conversation and turned his attention to Sigrid.


	3. Stage three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that I'll have smut in this chapter already but guess what? It's only plot again. But I hope you'll be at least slightly surprised. As before -- I made a lot of typos I know but I'll do my best to correct them when I re-read this chapter. And also I'm still in need of a beta so if anyone is willing to work with me here's my tumblr http://followthebifrost.tumbr.com or you can contact me via comments or messages here :D 
> 
> ALSO, next chapter might not be posted till next week due to my studies.

Kili was pacing nervously around his chamber. They talked about it for months, he and his brother. At first, they spoke of their feelings and how happy and joyful they were when they found out they were loved back. They told each other stories of how lonely and cursed they were before the quest. It was in the middle of the battle, when finally Kili broke, and confessed. Fili thought he was dying and in his last gesture before leaving the world, he reached for a kiss. It was their first and for a long time the only one.

Kili was wounded in battle too, but recovered quickly. Much sooner than his brother, so the two spend their days in hospital wings, keeping each other company. And when the candles were blow out and the only light was coming from the moon and stars, in this secret privacy, they talked about the future.

It wasn’t until half of a year later, when the decision was made. Fili was the one to put an end to all discussions. They were each other’s Ones but they were also brothers and they spend their whole lives together. Fili had no idea how to start more intimate relationship. None of them were that close with another person. Kili wanted to try but each kiss and touch felt awkward. Not right. They were so used and accustomed to brotherly caresses they simply didn’t know how to stop. And for most part they didn’t need to stop.

Fili decided it will be at least theoretically good idea to sell their first times. To have sex with someone more experienced. With someone who could guide them and show them what to do. Kili said he’ll agree only, if they do it together. And so they did. They come out to all the dwarves of Erebor, including their Uncle and the Company.

“Stop it!” Fili barked from his seat. He took the chair next to the bed and was nervously hopping his left leg. He was scared too. “They’ll understand.”

“But we’re the only soulmate brothers in this family!” Kili looked and sounded helpless, desperation crept into his eyes long hours ago. “What if they won’t understand?”

“They love us!” Fili stood up and in few long steps was near his brother, hugging him tightly. “They love us and they will accept us.” He assured with all certainty he had. It was not the first time they comforted each other like this.

“But Uncle Thorin didn’t look like approving.” Kili protested softly, nuzzling his nose against Fili’s neck, smelling his hair and body. It felt like home and safety, it was familiar, a scent of his One. Fili began to pet his brother’s hair.

“Well, we kind of surprised him, don’t you think?” Fili said with a hint of a smile. “Did you saw his face? I swear he looked even better than when we paid a whore to seduce him.”

Kili snorted and then shook his head.

“No. You’re wrong. Then his face was priceless, this one was frightening,” Kili muttered against his brother’s bread. He liked to stand that close to him, to feel his warmth and smell his scent, to breath the same air as Fili.

“He’ll not abandon us, Kili,” Fili whispered, his own hopes poured into his words.

When they both returned to Kili’s chamber right after the Auction, they expected their uncle to follow. But Thorin didn’t come. Nor any other of their friends. To say that they were scared and anxious about their family reaction was not enough.  Kili couldn’t stay still even for a minute and Fili was barely holding back his tears. He acted as the stronger brother only for his One’s sake. He wanted to be a support for Kili, not a burden.

“What should we do now?” Kili looked at him with those beautiful eyes and Fili couldn’t stand the fear hiding in them. So he did what he always do, he began to tickle his younger brother until they were both laughing on the floor.

“Well,” Fili said, when he calmed his breaths. “It would be a good start to see what gifts we were given.”

Brothers in union looked at the green key to the room 38 and then, sharing stares, smiled mischievously.

*

Room 38 wasn’t big and in any case it didn’t reminded royal’s chambers. There was a wooden desk, still with dust on it, then a small queen bed and a shelf on the wall  opposite to the entrance. The only unusual thing in there, were presents. Lots of them, in fact.

During their way to the room they both thought of the possibility that no one would want them and now, when they saw for their own eyes how many wonderful items were awaiting them, both Fili and Kili felt excited. Kili was first to pick up a gift – a really fine axe with a little sculpture as a hand.

“Look at this!” He said, showing the axe to his brother. “Who do you think it is from? I don’t know anyone named Nalin.”

“Well, I’m sure we would be fine in the strong arms of a miner.” Fili shook his head, for he too had no idea who Nalin was.

For the next hour, the two of them explored. Kili found a small bottle of wine and Fili was really tempted to try it. But they didn’t know the dwarf name and they didn’t want to choose just yet. Then, Fili noticed a large leather tunic, really well made. He put it on and if one was to believe Kili’s words, he looked handsome in it. They picked up the smaller items, sometimes they laughed, sometimes they were embarrassed. Kili found a rather large, wooden dildo in the pile in the corner of the room. Fili thought of it as a joke and told him to put it back – in case it wasn’t a joke and the mysterious dwarf really wanted to use it on them.

“Look,” Filli said, pointing at a box covered in silk. It was put under the bed, so he barely even noticed it. “There must be something inside.”

Fili pulled the box from under the bed and at the movement, its contents began to move as well.

“It’s alive!” Fili gasped, surprised. Kili was near him in a blink of an eye. “What do you think it is?”

“Maybe a cat? Or a dog?” Kili guessed, joyfully. He always wanted to have a pet. “Who is it from?”

Fili, curiously, reached for the small nametag. And when he read the name on it, his hand trembled visibly.

“Oh.” Was all that escaped his throat. Kili, a little bit worried, looked at the small note. And did exactly the same thing – trembled and gasped. Then both brothers fell silent, just sitting on the floor next to each other and holding hands. Dumbstruck.

“Should we open it?”Kili was first to break the silence, mostly because the warm, murmuring sounds from the box poked at his curiosity. But first, he wanted his brother’s consent. After all, they were doing it together.

“I don’t know,” and Fili sounded even more unsure. He eyed the box suspiciously and then looked at the nametag again. There it was, written with silver, elegant letters, a name that made his heart miss a beat. Thranduil. _Elven King._

“What harm it would be if we just look?” Kili tried to reason. “Opening a gift doesn’t mean we’re accepting the offer, right?”

“Who knows what opening it might mean to the elfs?” Fili still wasn’t convinced. Thranduil, ever since their capture and imprisonment in Mikrwood, filled Thorin’s heir with fear. Those blue, cold eyes that when rested upon you, seemed to see through your soul – Fili shuddered. What would the Elven King want from them? Why did he sent the gift? There has to be more meaning in that gesture. Fili didn’t wait for his brother patience to run thin and in hushed tone, voiced his concerns.

“Oh, come one,” Kili made a sad face and Fili cursed himself inwardly. Of course, the sweetest eyes of Middle Earth had to belong to his One. “We’ll just look at what’s inside.”

“Kili!” Fili said with resentment. “How could you be so reckless! Naïve even!”

“How could you be such a coward!”

That was enough. Fili growled and bit his brother’s shoulder – not too hard of course – and then moved to open the box. And if he prayed that nothing will come out of it to eat off his face or something as bloody, he didn’t say anything. His heart missed another beat as he tossed the lid away.

“Oh!” Kili whispered, excited and astonished. Two small, white birds were looking at them from the box. And they were beautiful to the point that they stole Kili’s breath for a few moments. Fili, too, was instantly enchanted by those lovely creatures. By their fluffy, fur like feathers, sliver beaks and claws, the warm, quiet  sounds they were making. Only their eyes were terrifying, for they reminded Fili of Thranduil.

Kili reached gently and slowly into the box and one of the pigeons jumped on his wrist and then, in curiosity, tilted his head to the left side. The other mirrored the gesture and the cooed softly. Kili couldn’t stop his awe and began to rub the bird feathers with his finger.

“Just look at them Fili,” Kili muttered. “Look at how beautiful they are. I never seen such birds before. So gentle. Just touch their feathers!”

Fili had to admit, that creatures were stunning, he never seen something so delicate and pure in his life. And even now, he was mistrustful. Thankfully – or not – Kili decided to get rid of his doubts and placed the other bird in his hand. For a while, Fili dreaded to even breath, not wanting to scare the pigeon. But the bird seemed as content as its friend and when it saw breadcrumbs in his beard it jumped on his shoulders and began go peck at it. Fili couldn’t find his words and Kili know that in this moment, he won.

 “You must admit they are a great present,” Kili started and FIli held his breath when he understood when his younger brother was going. “They are so lovely and friendly! And I’m sure they are worth of royal family…”

“Stop. Stop it now, Kili,” Fili said, already having troubles with choosing his words. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of an Elf in his bedroom, taking their virginity and the fact that said Elf was Thranduil did not help at all. Fili simply stared at his One with plead in his eyes, silently begging him to change his mind.

But Durins were stubborn and Kili was undoubtedly a Durin. So instead of listening to his brother, he took his pigeon and kissed gently its head. Then, Kili turned his eyes to Fili, trying his best to convince him, even if he had to make him feel a little bit guilty.

“Look at that baby,” Kili began again. “Why wouldn’t we want to keep them?”

“Because!” Fili couldn’t stop himself anymore. He stood abruptly and his pigeon few, started, over the room only to sit back in his box. “Because they belong to King Thranduil!”

“What’s the matter?” Kili stood too, now irritated. “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of an elf?”

“Stop it! I love you, Kili, you know that I do, but that’s not going to happen,” Fili began pacing the room, suddenly too small for him. He wanted to run as far from there as possible, he needed fresh air. He needed to get away from his One, expecting him to lay with someone he was afraid of.

Kili looked at his brother for a long while, not saying anything. Then, as if  he saw something, his face and posture changed. He gently put his bird back into the box and the turned to Fili. He crossed the distance between them and hugged his older brother tightly. Fili let out breath he didn’t know he was holding and slowly relaxed in his One’s arms. He rested his head on Kili’s shoulder and stayed like this, content that their discussion was over.

“Why are you fearing him, Fili?” Kili asked after a while. “What’s so scary about Thranduil?”

“Have you seen his eyes?” Fili sighed deeply, trying to keep calm. He really didn’t want to discuss Elven King on the day they were supposed to have their first time. “It’s like he can see through your soul. He has an eyes of creature older than the world itself. It scares me.”

“Well, he might be older than us and all of the Durin’s Folk gathered together…” Kili slowly let go of his brother only to kiss gently his chin. “But he isn’t a monster that hides in the shadows or under our bed.”

Fili snorted and then shook his head. He loved his brother but sometimes Kili was so trustful it worried him greatly.

“What would Elven King want from us, Kili? We’re not simple dwarfs, don’t forget that. What if he wants to bed us to manipulate us in the future? “

“What if he thinks we’re attractive?” Kili retorted with a smirk. “What if he wants to have sex with us simply because he wants to? You said that he’s an old creature. Who knows when was the last time he got laid?”

Now Fili groaned and pushed his brother away. No. He did not want to think about such things. But then his mind took its freedom and before Fili could stop himself he heard his own words :

“What if he doesn’t even remember how to get it hard?”

Kili began to laugh loudly, so much the thought amused him. After a while, he had tears in the corners of his eyes and was holding his stomach.

“Do you think brother, that elfs are so stiff that after so many  years they forgot how to do it? And that’s why there are no children amongst them?” Fili continued, feeling the mood lighten. And now, when he was laughing at Elven King’s potential impotence, he wasn’t scared anymore. Kili and he, they used to always take any dangers playfully. When you were laughing – and mocking – things didn’t seem to be as horrible as they really were.

They amusement died few minutes later and Durins brothers in silence stared at the two pigeons now sitting patiently in the box. They were extraordinary, Fili had no doubts about that. And if there was a name of any different elf attached to them – even Lord Elrond would be better – he would accept them as a gift. Even if only for Kili’s happiness. But Thranduil? Fili knew that his Uncle has been underestimating the Elven King and deep in his heard, he feared that one day they will all pay the price.   He simply couldn’t believe that someone thousands years old was harmless. Fili didn’t want to take Thranduil lightly – he was sure the elf was dangerous under his cold surface.

“You know,” Kili said quietly, all the playfulness and teasing from earlier, gone. “We don’t have to accept his gift. If you don’t feel safe and sure about this.”

“I just...” Fili mumbled, then shook his head. “I just don’t understand why you want him. It’s Thranduil. Fucking Elven King. How could you not be intimidated by him?”

Kili shrugged and then, after a while of thinking, he smiled at his brother.

“You know, his son turned out to be okay,” he said. “A little bit weird but it’s not like the elfs aren’t. And Tauriel’s really nice too. She told me a lot about their kin. About their customs and in her world Thranduil doesn’t seem like a cruel person. He just wants to keep his people safe.”

“Tauriel is an elf, of course that she would love her king!” Fili protested, then sat at the floor, head rested against the wall. Kili took the place next to him.

“The elfs aren’t afraid of him,” Kili continued, set to say what he wanted. “Neither are Bard’s children. You saw them at the dinner! They already call him Uncle. He can’t be that bad if he likes kids, right? And he smiled at Sigrid and encouraged her! I am telling you, there’s more in this elf that you are willing to see.”

Fili fell silent again. The more he thought about Elven King, the more details he began to recall. He saw Bain riding on Thranduil’s elk yesterday. And he saw Sigrid learning to play lute. How the Elven King looked then? Peaceful? Simply happy? Fili didn’t want to admit it, but eventually even he had to accept the truth. Elven King was more than a cold mask and cruelty, more than pure hatred toward Durins. Fili sighed deeply, desperately trying to hold to his last excuses.

“What would Uncle say?” He asked, looking at his brother. “He wouldn’t be happy.”

“Well, he isn’t happy now either,” Kili said, a bit of concern hid in his voice. “But he loves us. You said that. He loves us and it’s not his business who we’re having sex with. And you know what? If Uncle Thorin doesn’t want to have peace with Woodland Realm then fine. He could be stubborn and foolish like that. But I don’t want Erebor to be closed off and full of hate toward its neighbors. We fought that Battle together and we won together. So we should be together too instead of arguing over the past.” 

“Are you insinuating, that we should make peace between dwarves and elves by bedding with Thranduil?” Fili looked at his brother with disbelief. Then, when everything finally clicked in his head, he began to chuckle frantically. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Kili asked, half amused, half frustrated that his brother laughed at something he didn’t understood. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Fili waved his hand. “I just thought about Uncle’s expression when he finds out that we sealed peace between our families by sleeping with his nemesis.”

“Ohh, you make it sound almost as if it was worth a try,” Kili teased. “But think about that! When you’ll be king… Wouldn’t it be good to have Thranduil as an ally?”

“It would do us no harm,” Fili agreed. “But are you sure his intentions are good?”

“He sent us two white pigeons,” Kili said and pointed at the birds. “For the Mountain and what lays beneath, an elf wouldn’t sent us two innocent birds if he wanted to harm us. What I say is : let’s do this. It’s not often that an Elven King wants to have sex with you.”

“Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Fili muttered to himself and then leaned toward his brother to mess with his hair. So, the decision was made.

*

Thranduil was not yet asleep when he heard knocking and one of his servants came to his chambers. To be honest, Elven King expected his pigeons returned, if no in the middle of the night, then in the morning. And he wouldn’t be exactly surprised if Thorin’s screams and insults added as a bonus. But to his surprise, instead of a box, there was only a note.

And it wasn’t from Durin’s brothers, but from their Uncle.

Thranduil cursed.

*

“Great,” Elven King muttered under his nose, trying to look at least decent, dressed in his night robes and hurrying through narrow corridors of Erebor. Endir, still half asleep, was walking right behind him and to the King’s bitter-sweet amusement, young elf seemed to be at least partially terrified by his rashness. The guards – only five – were alert and concerned about the reason behind King Thorin’s sudden summoning.

“Endir,” Thranduil spoke in his native language, glad that dwarves were always arrogant enough to not bother with learning it. “If anything happens you know what to do. I don’t think any harm will come to me, but nonetheless you’ll be bound to send message to MIkrwood.”

Endir nodded, his eyes round with fear now. Thranduil felt a pang of guilt – he should have brought someone more experienced, not a young elfling that wanted to see the world outside. Of course, Endir was older than Legolas but for Thranduil, everyone under two thousands were still only children.  And the fact that every servant knew the leaf magic and thanks to the wind could communicate with palace, did not lighted King’s bitter mood.

“My lord,” Endir asked tentatively, “Is there a war upon us?”

“No.” Thranduil wasn’t so sure about his words but part of being a king for so long was to cram everyone with bullshit from time to time. “But there might be an incident tonight and I want you all alert. Do you understand?”

All his elfs nodded and Thranduil for a moment, felt a bit safer in the foreign and cold walls of Erebor. He had no idea why Thorin has sent for him and at that, requested his immediate presence in his royal chambers. Part of the elf wanted to believe it was going to be a shouting match about what’s appropriate and what’s not about dwarven traditions, but the other part, darker one, feared that the orcs were danger again. Of course, Thorin could have anything in this mind of his.

 It wasn’t a surprise to them, that the door leading to the royal chambers were second in size only to the one leading to the King’s Forge. There was quite fine piece of art on them, but Thranduil wasn’t given time to truly admire it. The door were opened and Thorin’s shadowy outline was a contrast for the bright fire light coming from his rooms.

“Thank you for your fast arrival, King Thranduil,” Thorin said and if Thranduil wasn’t surprised yet, he was by now. He wouldn’t expect such manners and king behavior form this Durin especially, even in another life. But there he was, Thorin, gesturing him to come inside.

“Please, if you would, I want this conversation to be private,” King under the Mountain looked at all the elfs Thranduil took with himself. “I’ll give you my word, nothing will happen to you. I seek… an advice.”

No. Thranduil definitely couldn’t believe this. Had he drank too much ale tonight and now was suffering from abstract dreams? But the cold stones of Erebor were too real to be only a dream. Elven King raised an eyebrow, deciding that whatever was meant to happen, will eventually happen and he might as well be elegant and nonchalant about it.

“Of course,” he said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. “But I wish my guards to remain here.”

Thorin nodded his agreement and waited for Elven King to enter his chambers. Thranduil did so, after sharing a few looks with his night companions. The walk-through room was big enough even for someone as used to spacious places as the elfs and it was also nicely arranged. The furniture was made out of wood and Elven King spotted a wardrobe made by his kin’s hand. He did not expect Thror to keep it, given his fueled by gold-sickness hatred for elves, but it was a nice discovery.

When the doors shut behind two kings, silence become more and more tense. Thranduil wasn’t going to be the one to spoke first for it was Thorin who called for council.  Yet, the longer Elven King looked at the dwarf the more he realized waiting was a lost case – Oakenshield was looking at the floor, hands fisted and clenched so hard his muscles showed. Angry was he then? Thranduil tilted his head to the side, calculating weather he should try to get out or not. He had Thorin’s word, true. But he also knew what dwarf thought of him ever since Smaug attack.

“I…”Thorin started, then fell silent again. Thranduil inwardly rolled his eyes and stopped himself from rushing the other king. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t help much. So instead Elven King localized the nearest settee big enough to be comfortable and sat.

“Ugh!” Thorin groaned, hands up. “Why are elfs so hard to talk to!” He shouted in anger and looked furiously at his guest.

“Perhaps because you haven’t spoken a single sentence since you invited me in?” Thranduil suggested rather smugly. He raised his eyebrow and was now measuring Thorin with his blue, crystal eyes.

“Shut up! It’s not that easy!” Thorin barked and in answer Thranduil sighed, irritated. Truly, how he should be proud of himself, so much patience and forgiveness he showed since he arrived to this cursed Mountain.

After a while of simply watching and enjoying Thorin’s struggle, Elven King showed some mercy.

“What is not easy?” He asked, keeping his tone neutral. After all, he didn’t want to start another war. His job was to keep his people safe and orcs army cost his realm too many lives.

“This situation,” Thorin muttered, most of the sound caught in his beard.

Before Thranduil decided to ask obvious question – “what situation” – the dwarf began to explain, although words didn’t came to him without effort.

“My two nephews… Fili and Kili are… Well, they are my concern.” Thorin started, looking at the floor with newly found interest. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the elf he despised so greatly. But yet, Thranduil was the only one that could give him advice.

“You don’t know what to do about their relationship,” Thranduil guessed without really thinking about it. Thorin raised his head sharply, another angry accusation already on his lips. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking, Thorin Oakenshield.”

King under the Mountain shut his mouth at unexpected harsh tone.

“I know your customs enough. Don’t forget that centuries ago our realms were living in peace and friendship. But back to the matter, it seems urgent since you pulled me out of the bed so late at night.” Thranduil with satisfaction observed Thorin’s blush and it  didn’t matter if he was read from anger or embarrassment. “Your nephews are soulmates. The whole Erebor and Dale knows. And you thought I might be of some help. Why?”

“Because you’re a damn elf, you are…” Thorin fumbled with his words but finally chocked them out. “You’re supposed to be wise and helpful!”

Thranduil wanted to laugh at that. From what forsaken legend the dwarf took that belief? Of course, elves were known for their knowledge and wisdom, but helpfulness? No. Yet it was as clear as the summer sky that King under the Mountain seek Thranduil’s aid and this time, Elven King was determined to provide it.

“Then tell me how I can help you,” he said, his voice once again neutral.

“Tell me what I am supposed to do with them!” Thorin burst  out.

“Do you love them?” Thranduil asked.

“Of course! What question is this!?”

“Good. Then there shouldn’t be any problems with accepting their relationship,” Thranduil concluded nonchalantly.

“Accepting?” Thorin, all anger and fire burned out, dropped at the chair near the elf. He looked tired and lost. Thranduil almost felt sorry for him. “How can you say so with such ease?”

“Experience,” the elf’s voice was softer now and the tension between the kings began to fade slowly. “I’ve met many couples like your nephews. Sisters and brothers, fathers and daughters, bonding with each other. And as long as it is true love that draws them together it is beautiful as any other.”  

“So you would sleep with your son if you were bonded?” Thorin snorted but it lacked his usual venom.

“We don’t have our Ones, dwarf, but we can love only once in our long lives and we can decide who we gift with our feelings, most of the time,” Thranduil, even if he felt offended didn’t show it. “If Legolas somehow decided that it is me he wants to love, then he would be disappointed because my heart will always belong to his mother.”

Heavy, sad silence fell upon them and Thorin couldn’t find strength within himself to say something. He heard the broken hart in Thranduil’s voice – he knew that his wife died, everyone in Middle-Earth probably knew. Elven King’s wife became a legend, a brave warrior, hero for young girls around the world. But how many people really wondered how greatly Thranduil suffered from his loss?

“Elrond’s sons,” Elven King began when it became too hard to sit in silence and when memories of his wife began to creep into his mind. “Elrohir and Elladan, surely you met them, are with each other since their youngest years.”

Thorin looked at him in shock, mouth nearly gaping open.

“Really?” He managed, still dumbstruck.

“Really,” Thranduil chuckled but it was a nice sound, nothing like mockery. “They were quite destructive couple, back in their youth, but they settled now and they are preparing to rule Rivendell along with his father.”

“And everyone accepted them?” Thorin asked and there was hope that shimmered in his eyes.

“Sometimes love comes to us with time. Sometimes we can learn to love. On other times it’s our heart that chooses.  We can of course fight, but there is no sense in it for love, when pure and honest, are the most powerful thing in this world and it is indeed beautiful phenomenon.”

Thorin was feeling a lot of things in that moment – he was impressed and surprised and embarrassed and astonished. He never thought that Thranduil – cold and distanced – would speak about love with such words, almost poetic, as if he could felt it himself. And here and there Thorin realized that the elf in front of him was in love once. With his wife, now long dead.

“How Elrond did it?” Thorin asked eventually.

“Elrond loves his sons,” was the answer. “And he would do everything for them.”

“But how… How can he look at them and not think about their…,” Thorin stopped there and rise his head to meet Elven King’s blue eyes. The dwarf seemed to be terrified by the idea of his nephews being in love and by the thought that he wouldn’t be able to see them the same way as before. Wouldn’t be able to accept them.

“I’m sure that when he sees his sons its nothing less but his children, happy and healthy and in love, living their life as best as they can. Elrond his proud of his sons and he’ll defend them and their relationship, no matter what.” Thorin still looked too lost and unsure for Thranduil likes. He raised from his settee and put hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Show them that you still love them. Support them. Defend them. They are your family. You’ll know what to do.”

And with that words, Elven King started to walk towards the door. It was time to end this conversation. The night wasn’t young anymore and Thranduil wanted to return to his own bedroom. For once, he felt like sleeping for a few hours and he wanted to see if his gifts were accepted or not.

“Thank you for your advice, Elven King,” Thorin said quietly as he stood to see his guest to the door.

“You’re welcome, King under the Mountain,” Thranduil replied, one foot already in the corridor. “As one king to another. Good night.”

*

It was only when Thranduil returned to his chambers and the door closed behind him, than he fully realized what happened. And sudden, soft chuckle escaped his mouth – he couldn’t stop, that’s how absurd this situation was. Did he really talked with Thorin Oakenshild about love and tolerance? Oh, dear Mother of Nature. Was the dwarf drunk? When he thought of it, it was quite possible.

In his uncontrolled state, Thranduil did not notice someone’s presence in his bedroom. Not until Bard, in confusion, walked up near him.

“What happened!?” He asked, too loudly and with too much concern to take it lightly. “Why did Thorin sent for you in the middle of the night? Are we having war? Are you alright? What happened?”

Thranduil, still too shock-amused for his own good, grasped Bard’s shoulder and shook his head in an answer.

“Everything is well,” he managed to say. “We were just talking.”

“About what?” Bard looked at his friend skeptically.

Then, in the dim light of the candle, Thranduil saw a small note laying on his nightstand. And he didn’t need to look to knew what it meant. He smiled predatory smile and his eyes were shining dangerously in the room.

“About love,” he said and it didn’t sound as anything pure or innocent.  


End file.
